


Devil's Backbone

by Cinnamaldeide



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hannibal the indecisive one for once, M/M, Not Beta Read, Pre-Slash, dark!Will, psychiatrist!will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 10:54:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9816740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamaldeide/pseuds/Cinnamaldeide
Summary: In all fairness, Hannibal could admit to himself he would miss Will Graham.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YTb6MoMLvcY) if you please.  
> Now with a [sequel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12246243/chapters/34023639) :)

 

In all fairness, Hannibal could admit to himself he would miss Will Graham.

His brilliant, obscure colleague had been having an incredible sequence of insightful suspicions in regards to his illicit activities; Hannibal should have chosen a different psychiatrist, yet he could not resist the temptation and perform his sophisticated costume in front of a well renowned personality.

Being really seen has been one of his innermost, unconscious desire for so long, he had forgotten the amount of satisfaction he could experience just allowing an innocent peek behind the curtains.

The nebulous clue Hannibal had left on his path, such as but not least macabre metaphors on divine punishment and food related puns, seemed to be enough for Will to discern the whole stage; the act itself playing before his eyes, as if he had been hidden in the audience until then. He could glance upon his lean figure and fathom his wavering thoughts with easiness, dare him say.

For this reason he could not enjoy his company anymore; Will had already been dangerous enough without Hannibal further exposing the nature of his greatest pleasures, however subtly. He had to dispose of him, preferably deigning him of an elegant, appropriate end that could clearly convey his own respect for his exquisite mind, if not his occasionally questionable manners.

Between one appointment and the other, Hannibal leisurely spent bits of his time wondering the perfect form of art to elevate Will’s death, savouring anticipation as he would with a good wine whose bottle had been opened too soon, whose taste still lingered on sour, bitter notes.

Hannibal would keep his brain, marinate it in white wine and pour a hint of lemon juice; he would prepare it in the intimacy of his kitchen and taste it in the solitary of his house, and he would not share it in one of his refined dinner parties.

Hannibal would respect the intimate relationship they cultivated so far, fed by Will’s marked curiosity and reverberating darkness; Hannibal suspected several times that Doctor Graham knew more than what a common psychiatrist would on slaughtering techniques and canine digestion.

While learning his weekly obligations and daily appointments, in order to estimate an appropriate moment to strike, Hannibal considered he could hardly see Will as one of the Chesapeake Ripper’s victims; the term didn’t seem apt, for a man not even remotely helpless. Not to mention, Will had offended him with nothing but his unfortunate aftershave.

The very same repulsive aftershave that, as Hannibal once confessed, smelled like something with a ship on the bottle; when the fateful night had fallen, he could ascertain he had been right, since said bottle laid on the table, waiting for him to step in Will’s residence.

Surrounded by overwhelming, persistent stinks, such as dog food and engine oil, Hannibal took into account that the aftershave could after all pass for the lessen evil; since no trace of the peculiar undernote of his psychiatrist’s personal scent lingered in the wide entrance, Hannibal considered the hypothesis that Will might have been more accurate in his predictions than expected.

Curiously that didn’t seem to bother Hannibal; he might instead be pleasantly surprised by such turn of events, aftershave aside.

Hannibal might have resigned himself to be more unique than rare in his category of psychopaths, yet the challenging prospect to finally have found a matching playmate had his blood running faster in his vein.

Not so many thorns grew on the Devil’s backbone, he knew from experience: the temptation to pick up one of his kind and bleed sweetly because of their proximity felt as strong as the urge to destroy it in his clutches, slowly and inexorably.

Hannibal wondered upon the circumstances in which Will would allow their next encounter, not doubting for a moment he had been taking his time to choose an adequate setting; escape had never been contemplated.

Hannibal would reach a decision on his fate, as soon as he would catch Will Graham again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this far, I hope you enjoyed my little monster! My initial hope was to describe a funny setting: Hannibal deciding to kill Will, as he wanted to kill Bedelia, only to find the aftershave instead of a good perfume. It would be hilarious, admit it.  
> I know I sucked all fun out on the way, but I tried, damnit!  
> I’d appreciate to know your personal opinion, here or [anywhere else](http://cinnamaldeide.tumblr.com/), or you could simply come and say hello :)


End file.
